


Every Type of Girl

by thesaddestboner



Series: bang ’em up bruiser queen [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Body Image, Detroit Red Wings, F/F, F/M, Gen, Identity Issues, Not Beta Read, Rule 63, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Indulgent, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sometimes a defensive partnership felt almost like a marriage.  Or, at least, what Nik imagined a marriage might be like.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Type of Girl

**Author's Note:**

> In my mind this was set during the 2008 season in my [always-a-cisgirl NHLers ’verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/38814) thing. 
> 
> Probably inappropriate title from “Dancing With Myself,” by Billy Idol.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Sometimes a defensive partnership felt almost like a marriage. Or, at least, what Nik imagined a marriage might be like. She’d never been married, had never even been engaged, so she couldn’t really speak from experience. Actually, she hadn’t had a serious relationship in years. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten laid, or even been faced with the prospect of getting laid.

When she drunkenly told Stuie that he was like her stay-at-home husband, it made sense in her head at the time. Stay-at-home defenseman, stay-at-home husband. Same thing, right?

Nik wasn’t quite drunk, but she was tipsy enough that she was saying things she probably wouldn’t normally say if she was in full control of her faculties. Stuie just rolled with it—and the boisterous teasing from their teammates—like a champ, though. Tinny music floated into the hotel bar from a speaker that hung precariously from the ceiling overhead.

“Works for me,” he said, reaching out and knuckling Nik’s hair like she was his kid brother or something—Nik wasn’t sure why the thought bothered her but she pushed the annoyance away—and grinning at her. 

Nik reached up and patted a hand through her messy blond hair. “You would say that.”

Stuie’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nik let her hand drop. “I don’t know. It made sense in my head.”

Zäta popped up behind Stuie’s shoulder, grinning, eyes bright with mischief. She had a pretty dark haired girl by the hand. “ _You’re cut off, Nikki._ ”

“Who’s your friend,” Nik asked her sharply, feeling petulant.

Zäta glanced at the girl and then back at Nik, still wearing that smile Nik didn’t quite trust. “ _You two have met before. This is my girlfriend, Emma._ ”

Nik was so jealous of Zäta sometimes. Everything about her was so effortless, carefree, charismatic and everyone loved her for it. Nik could tell just from the way Emma held onto her hand and looked at her that she was completely taken by Zäta.

Zäta tugged her hand free of Emma’s to sweep a hand through her wild brown hair, and then brought her hand down to tug at the front of her flashy top. Emma said something that made Zäta’s eyes brighten, and they both laughed, lacing their fingers together. Nik seethed in silence next to Stuie, knowing full well she’d never be able to pull off that sequined top or the leather skirt Zäta had paired with it.

Stuie nudged his shoulder against Nik’s, breaking her attention away from Zäta and Emma. “You want another drink?”

“Zäta said I’m cut off,” Nik grumbled.

Stuie rolled his eyes. “Zäta’s not the captain. Not yet.”

“I think I’m just going to head up to my room,” Nik said, pushing herself away from the table.

Stuie got up, putting a hand on her bare arm. His fingers were warm and slightly damp from his beer bottle. “You think you can get up there without any help?”

“I’m not that drunk,” Nik reassured him, but didn’t move to pull away. His hand was still on her arm, warm and steady.

“Okay. See you in the morning, Nik.” Nik felt almost let down when Stuie slipped his hand away and sat back down at the bar with the rest of their teammates.

“Come out with me and Emma instead.” Zäta linked her arm with Nik’s and tugged.

“Thank you for the offer, but it _is_ kind of late,” Nik said, tapping the face of her watch to illustrate her point.

“Oh, leave her alone, Henrika,” Emma said, tugging on Zäta’s hand. “She doesn’t want to. No point in forcing her to go out and then no one has any fun.”

“Emma’s right,” Nik said, backing away from the two of them. “You guys have fun.”

She made her escape for the elevators before Zäta had time to protest.

-

When Nik went down to the bar a few hours later, after trying and failing to get to sleep, Stuie was still there, working on a glass of what appeared to be water.

Nik pulled up a seat next to him and flagged over the bartender. “What’re you having?” she asked.

“Water,” Stuie said, cupping his hands around the glass. “Trying to sober up for the long trek back to my room.” He glanced at Nik, scrutinized her. “Thought you went to bed hours ago.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Nik bowed her head and her dark blond hair fell into her eyes like fringe. She blew it out of her face.

Stuie huffed. “I’ve got some Ambien in my bag.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.” Nik ordered a soda and pulled her wallet out of her pocket.

“I’ve got this. It’s on me.” Stuie threw his credit card down on the bar top.

“Come on, Stuie.” Nik shoved his card back at him but he pushed it over to the bartender.

“What, I can’t treat my wife to a drink?” Stuie smiled at her.

“You won’t let me live that down, will you?” she asked.

“Probably not,” Stuie admitted.

“Well, I would expect nothing less.” Nik took her drink and sipped through the straw. The bubbles went right to her sinuses and she winced.

Stuie slid his hand between her shoulder blades and rubbed gently. “Rough night, huh?”

“I don’t know. Not really. It’s an off-day, how bad could it possibly be?” Nik let herself lean into his touch in spite of the warning bells ringing off in her head. Stuie actually had a real wife—as opposed to a make-believe hockey one—and she was enjoying his touch far too much.

“The grind gets to all of us,” Stuie said, finally pulling his hand back.

Nik looked at him, her hair falling back in her eyes again. She shook it out of her face with a put-upon sigh. “I can’t remember the last time a part of me didn’t ache.”

“Me either,” Stuie said. “You can take pills for it, but the relief’s just temporary. The only thing that really helps is time.”

Nik paused, unsure if they were still actually talking about hockey or if it’d become about something else. Stuie put his hands on the bar top and the glint of his wedding ring caught in the corner of Nik’s eye. 

“Well,” she said, sliding off the bar stool. “I guess I’ll head up now.”

“I’ll come with you,” Stuie said, getting up too.

They headed back to the elevators together, Nik leading the way and Stuie not far behind. Stuie quietly hummed the bridge to a familiar song Nik couldn’t quite place. When they reached the elevators, an older couple in matching touristy shirts and fanny packs waited, hand in hand. The wife looked over, sized up Nik and Stuie, and Nik fought the funny urge that bubbled up in her to grab onto Stuie’s arm and pretend she was his girlfriend. 

Nik wasn’t about to fool herself. She wasn’t conventionally pretty like tall, dark-haired Johanna, who looked like she’d stepped off some runway in Paris. She wasn’t even like Zäta, who made up for her lack of a figure with an electric, magnetic personality and a quick wit. 

Nik was short, and too stocky to have much by the way of a figure. At least not like Johanna, who had to wear, like, a special, industrial-strength sports bra to keep her boobs under control during games. Nik’s feet were too big and flat too, so it was difficult to find cute, stylish shoes that fit. She had to get them custom made, usually, which was a pain and way too expensive. 

Sometimes Nik wished she was pretty like Johanna, or exhilarating like Zäta. Something more than plain, dumpy old Nikole Kronwall who couldn’t even find shoes that fit. 

“You alright? You’ve been awful quiet.” Stuie’s quiet-yet-firm voice broke though Nik’s thoughts, sending them scattering.

Nik looked up at him. “Fine. Just... thinking.”

Stuie pushed a button next to one set of elevator doors and shoved his hands in his pockets. “About what?”

Nik looked down at her sandaled feet and wiggled her toes. She shrugged. Felt the material of her shirt slide unwelcomely against her skin. All of her senses got super heightened when she was drunk. The feel of the cotton was uncomfortable now. “Girl stuff,” she said, thinking it would deter him.

Stuie was onto her, his laugh a pleased, low rumble in his chest. “I’ve got a daughter. Give me something I haven’t heard before.”

Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach. Nik rubbed her stomach, tried to rub them away but they were stubborn tonight. “It’s silly. I shouldn’t worry about this stuff, you know.”

The elevator doors dinged open and Nik cut herself off, followed Stuie in. An attendant looked at both of them, let her eyes skate down Nik’s body and back up again. Nik wondered if the woman was judging Stuie for being seen with someone like Nik.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell the guys,” Stuie said, leaning into her a little bit, his arm pressing gently against shoulder.

“I’ll tell you when we’re... when we don’t have company,” Nik said quietly, eyeing the elevator attendant, who was doing her best to not appear as if she was eavesdropping.

Stuie laughed again. “Okay, fine.”

Once they were out of the elevators, Nik stopped by a long gleaming mahogany table and examined herself in the mirror that was placed above it. Stuie hovered just beyond the mirror’s frame. Nik could see his shoulder and a curl of his dark hair.

“So,” Nik said, tugging at one of her dark blond curls.

“You were going to tell me why you’re acting weird,” Stuie said.

Nik sighed and poked at her nose. “Sometimes I get stuck in my head with my thoughts.” She glanced over at Stuie, who was leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his pockets. “It’s hard enough being one of a handful of women in the NHL, playing a man’s game. But they put so much pressure on us to be _feminine_ and cute and... and attainable. So that the men’ll keep watching.”

A dark look clouded Stuie’s features only briefly before dissipating. “I know. It’s total BS.”

“Sometimes I just wonder. Wonder what people think when they see me.” It was a cop out. Nik knew this, wasn’t proud of it, but she couldn’t quite make herself voice the exact truth behind her thoughts and her wonderings.

“You shouldn’t care what those assholes think about you,” Stuie said.

“I know. I do anyway,” Nik said, looking at her reflection again. She raked her hands through her hair. “Sometimes I think things would just be easier if I looked like Johanna. Or if I was more like Zäta. No one would wonder about me.”

“Jo and Zäta get their share of crap, though,” Stuie said, pushing away from the wall and coming closer, until he was behind Nik’s shoulder. “It’s not even just from fans. Sometimes guys on other teams give them shit.”

“I know... I get it too. I just wish...” Nik trailed off and turned her back on her reflection. “It’s stupid. To be worrying about this high school stuff. Worrying about whether or not I’m good enough. Pretty enough.”

Stuie sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not stupid.”

“I should just let it roll off my back,” Nik said. “I should be above this by now.”

“You’re fine.” Stuie rubbed in slow circles on Nik’s back. “I know it gets hard on you sometimes, on all of you. And... I dunno. I’ve got your back. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Nik said.

Stuie let his hand still between Nik’s shoulder blades. “And you _are_ good enough.”

Nik couldn’t help the way her stomach dropped in disappointment. “But not pretty enough.” She laughed a little too sharply for it to be believable.

“Didn’t say that,” Stuie said.

“You don’t have to flatter me now.” Nik sighed and let herself put her head on Stuie’s shoulder. She got an arm around his waist and closed her eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Nik.” Stuie gave her shoulders a squeeze. “If I wasn’t married, I’d—”

“Oh, stop.” Nik gave him a gentle shove.

Stuie smiled at her, warm and disarming. She imagined it probably worked well on his children, maybe even his wife too. “Just sayin’.”

Nik rolled her eyes. “You’re full of crap.”

“Now you’re just playing humble.” Stuie grinned at her.

“I’m not playing!” Nik protested, even as she fought the smile that was threatening its way onto her face.

Stuie looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, into his chest. Nik felt his chin pressing against the top of her head. He gave her another squeeze. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. You’re great. I’ll keep reminding you if I have to.”

Nik pressed her hands against her chest and pushed away from him, laughing, blowing her hair out of her face. Stuie grinned down her her. For just a second, Nik’s chest ached, and she was back to being Nikole, strangely insecure and unconfident. 

But only for a second. 

Stuie finally broke away and swept a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you, Stuie.” Nik reached out, grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

She didn’t say anything, but Stuie seemed to get it anyway and squeezed back.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Will Never Get You Out of My Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176022) by [stuito55 (annabeth)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/stuito55)




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